His first movement, on regaining consciousness, was to look defiantly up to heaven; then he held out his hand to Brighteye. "Thanks!" he said to him.
The hunter fell back, and declined to take the proffered hand. "You must not thank me," he said.
"Who then?"
"God!"
Don Estevan drew in his pale lips contemptuously; but soon understanding that he must deceive his saviour, if he wished for a continuance of that protection which he cared not yet to do without, he said, with feigned humility—"That is true. God first, and you next."
"I," Brighteye continued, "have only performed a duty—paid a debt; now we are quits. Ten years ago, you rendered me an important service; today I have saved your life. I discharge you from all gratitude, and you must do the same with me. From this hour we no longer know each other—our ways are different."
"Will you abandon me thus?" he said, with a movement of terror, which he could not overcome.
"What more can I do?"
"All!"
"I do not understand you."